


Dauntless Into The Ether

by wilhuffnpuff



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Deathwalker, F/M, M/M, but also with a bit of Legends details, but! somewhat canon compliant, crack shipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:27:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26264182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilhuffnpuff/pseuds/wilhuffnpuff
Summary: Orson Krennic takes a few moments out of his day to tease an ambitious Colonel, and one thing leads to another...
Relationships: Firmus Piett/Maximilian Veers, Maximilian Veers/Maximilian Veers's Wife, Orson Krennic/Maximilian Veers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Dauntless Into The Ether

The venue for this year’s Imperial Summit is at a vast conservatory located in the Skydome Botanical Gardens on Coruscant, a pocket of radiant green nestled within the endless durasteel ecumenopolis. When the talks and presentations are through and the lecture hall has emptied out, Colonel Maximilian Veers is free to wander outside, beckoned by a thicket of ancient trees knotted and gnarled that stretch to the sky like columns. 

His home world Denon is a vast multi-layered city planet largely devoid of plant and animal life life, similar to Coruscant. Curiosity compels him to look closer. Fan palm leaves are a sight to behold, maidenhair fronds a source of whimsy, the scent of fertile soil a rare delicacy. Not often does he have the opportunity to map the bark of a tree with his hand, registering its rough surface and deeply textured grooves. An ancient Denonian proverb comes to mind: _There is no path in the wood other than the intuition that guides all living things._

There must have been trees on Denon back then, ages ago. How quaint to consider it now.

He settles onto a lone shaded bench beneath a tree with weeping branches, speckled sunlight filtering in from above. Inevitably his thoughts turn back to Alexandria. The legal process of their separation is at its bitter end, the slow entropy of their relationship nearly complete. Of all things that he would choose to unsee—the glistening burns and viscera of a fallen comrade, bodies decomposing on a stretch of scorched earth, fear in the glazed eyes of a close combatant, the broken body of a child half buried beneath a pile of rubble—most dominant is the instance he followed a trail of blood leading to the bathroom where he met the agonized gaze of his wife, cerulean eyes wide with abject terror as her blood tainted hands shook.

Her vocal cords finally acquiesced and there was a sound that branded its way into the recesses of Maximilian’s memory. Even now, amidst the serenity of the gardens light years away from Denon and his family that never was, the memory and the loathing lingers. The death knell began to approach as she eventually noticed the way he looked at other men. Their lovemaking burdened with a new urgency and desperation to make it all work. Alexandria, increasingly resentful of his absence and long deployments. Maximilian, resentful of her resentfulness until the day he watches her flit away free of him and her existential trauma, radiance ascendant. 

It is a setback but Maximilian pushes on as always, grounded by militaristic discipline and perpetual resolve. It’s in the blood of his people, the generations that came before, those who came and saw and conquered. He is overseeing the development of a new Walker prototype— _the_ Walker, as he affectionately coins it. His presentation at the Imperial Summit had been well received amongst the audience of high-command officers. A brute machine for a brutal regime, harbinger of spectacle and death.

All of the galaxy is his stage. 

Mediation interrupted, the Colonel hears voices in the distance and he sharply looks to the source of the noise. Two men wearing white tunics make an advance through the dense thicket. Their capes are blindingly brilliant in the afternoon sunlight, buoyant and uncharacteristic of typical Imperial Security Bureau garb. 

Director Orson Krennic and his assistant Brierly Ronan, after having had a pleasant stroll through the gardens, eventually come upon a copse of trees. Krennic is contemplative, his features placid. They walk in companionate silence until the Assistant Director erupts with a small sneeze.

“—It’s beautiful, but…this foliage aggravates my allergies,” Ronan wrinkles his nose slightly as a mild breeze ruffles his chestnut brown hair. 

The Director lays a pat on his assistant’s shoulder, offering a benevolent smile. “Why don’t you take some time off before our upcoming departure? Go see your family, get some rest. They live in the Fobosi district, don’t they?…” Krennic glances at the man in the distance sitting beneath the willow tree. “Go on. I insist.”

Ronan follows Krennic’s gaze, landing on Colonel Veers. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Orson’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Go on, now.”

Arms tucked behind his back, the assistant director regards Krennic with mild skepticism for a moment and then bows his head. “I’ll forward you any relevant communications until we meet again. Comm if you need anything.” Ronan retreats back the way they came, his knee-length cape gently flapping in the wind.

Krennic continues towards the willow tree. Colonel Veers watches the incoming intrusion with the expression of a man who has been rudely interrupted. He looks away with a slightly knitted brow, eyes fixed to the ground. Eventually, a pair of black boots land in front of him, immaculate in contrast to the mossy earth. 

“Mind if I join you a moment?” Krennic delicately flips his flowing cape to one side and sits down before Maximilian has a chance to respond. 

“Fine.” Veers shifts in his seat. 

Krennic offers the Colonel a gloved hand, and this time his smile is genuine. “Orson Krennic. Director of Advanced Weapons Research.” 

When Maximilian looks up at the Director, he finds to his surprise that it is difficult to look away. Krennic’s blue eyes are arrestingly vivid even underneath the shade of the tree, magnetic with a fierce intensity of spirit. 

“Maximilian Veers.” The Colonel primly shakes the Director’s hand.

“I know. I enjoyed your presentation earlier today.” Krennic’s voice is a deep rasp, like smooth gravel.

“Did you?” Veers lifts a brow. “Well…I suppose that’s only natural, considering your title. What manner of weaponry does your….department specialize in?” 

Krennic’s boyish face turns alight with a flash of mischief as he makes himself more comfortable, crossing his legs and turning to face Veers. “All kinds.” He pauses and smiles, as if taken back to a time of fond remembrance. “….back when I was in the Republic’s Strategic Advisory Cell, I studied _every_ weapon and military vehicle imaginable that had been created for the Grand Army—most of them originating from Rothana and Kuat. I have a background in engineering and architecture, and I took it upon myself to study in great detail all of the schematics I could get my hands on. Including the original designs for those Walkers of yours.”

“You have keen initiative,” Veers responds evenly in his perfect Core accent, having long ago deduced exactly the point that Krennic is about to make. “….so what of it?”

“The Walker, in its current iteration….is a very _interesting_ design, I’ll give it that. But I just had to ask…why you haven’t addressed its obvious weaknesses.” Krennic intently pins the Colonel down with his eyes, awaiting the response. “You’re…currently the most prominent authority on those machines, are you not?”

Veers studies Krennic with a cool expression. “Do you honestly think that I haven’t had this conversation before?” 

“I don’t know,” the Director molds his expression into a picture of innocence. “…have you?” 

Now that they are in close proximity, Krennic takes the time to look upon the Colonel with appreciation. Sitting before him is an unwavering arbiter of Imperial might, resolve solid as the cut of his square jawline, cunning arch of his brows and broadness of his shoulders. His autumnal hazel eyes appear to change along with the environment, picking up the myriad hues of green from the trees and foliage surrounding them.

Wasting no time, Veers marches straight to the point. “Imperial Walkers are typically deployed strategically onto difficult terrain, with their advantages and disadvantages taken into serious account. They are not appropriate for every battle scenario, but are quite versatile under the correct circumstances. For example—in the event that I want to make a surprise advance without alerting the enemy to our presence, I might forge an alternate path through a body of water, which mitigates seismic disturbances considerably, decreasing the chances of detection. One can work around various disadvantages with a bit of an unorthodox approach.” 

Krennic strokes his chin, leather glove creaking softly. “That’s interesting, but….I fail to see what an AT-AT accomplishes that a low-lying tank could not do better and faster. Most specifically….the Republic’s All-Terrain Tactical Enforcer. The vehicle had a superior heavy projectile canon, capable of swiveling three hundred and sixty degrees. And due to its close proximity to the ground, it was far sturdier.”

“That is true, however the AT-TE had a propulsion system that was very complex and incredibly vulnerable,” Veers swiftly counters. “Its close proximity to the ground all but ensured the enemy had an easier, quicker shot at it.”

Krennic offers the Colonel a mischievous smirk. “So you advocate for shock and awe over practicality?”

“Why not both, simultaneously?” Maximilian smiles briefly, shattering his austere facade for a moment. “Have it all. Surely you could advocate such a position, being an expert in the subject of military weaponry.”

Krennic sighs blissfully, lulled by dulcet words. “You had me at ‘have it all’.” He then tilts his head with coy inquisitiveness, his voice dipping down to a wicked husk. “….Is it true that you personally demoted an up and coming trooper who cleverly demonstrated a certain vulnerability with your machines during a training exercise?”

“That’s classified information,” Maximilian’s expression hardens, his cheeks flush. “How deep did you have to dig for that?”

“I don’t dig. Rumors have a way of finding their way to my attention. It's a gift.” Krennic preens for a moment, primping his uniform, smoothing hands over his tunic and adjusting his belt. “To your credit, it is the most damning thing I’ve heard about you—and it pales significantly in comparison to most of my fellow officers in high command.”

Maximilian folds his sturdy arms, lifting his square jaw and defiantly looking away from the Director. “The individual in question was Davin Felth. He participated in a training exercise in which he came up with the brilliant idea of lowering his Walker’s legs to a kneeling position in order to advantageously target incoming enemy targets and prevent them from flying beneath the vehicle.”

“In essence, demonstrating the obsolescence of the Imperial Walker,” Krennic lifts a finger.

Lifting his own finger, Maximilian presses on. “But. That was just _one_ scenario.”

“A scenario that could have halted your career right then and there. So you buried it.”

Maximilian heaves a sigh. “If your intent is to humiliate me, Director….the effort is a wasted one. I’m well aware of my own inadequacies and shortcomings. I don’t have the aristocratic connections required to advance to higher rank and as such….I buried the incident before it could bury _me_.”

“Where are you from?”

“Denon. And you?”

“Lexrul.” 

“Never heard of it.”

“Outer Rim territory.”

“Ah.”

“….I would have done the same, you know.” 

Veers once again turns towards Krennic, his interest piqued. “Somehow, that revelation doesn’t shock me.”

Krennic, abandoning the pretense of his charm, gazes at Maximilian directly. “ _Nobody’s_ ever heard of Lexrul. I never had the right connections either. All I had was myself and my….slightly compromised moral compass.” He allows himself a dark little smile. “Let us see how much farther it takes me.”

“Slightly compromised?” Maximilian arches a brow. “What sort of weaponry are you working on, Director?”

Krennic’s voice lowers to an ardent whisper, a far away and fervent ferocity passing through his eyes. “The Peacemaker. The thing to end all wars.”

Maximilian releases a quiet snort. “No, really. What is it that you’re working on?” 

Krennic, overcome with a mercurial giddiness, energetically flexes his gloves as if unable to contain himself. “Something big. Classified. Top, top over the top secret.”

“In other words, you are beholden to a non-disclosure agreement.”

“That’s not a very fun way of saying it,” Krennic sighs, idly examining one of his gloves. “But yes, that’s correct.” He ventures a playful glance towards Maximilian, finding amusement in poking and prodding this bastion of a man. It doesn’t surprise Krennic to hear that the Colonel hails from Denon. Maximilian is a difficult man to read, carrying himself with a guardedness and reserve that mimics the nature of his homeworld. The ecumenopolis, heavily fortified with armaments and weaponry, is more fortress than planet. Krennic recalls studying Denon’s ancient architectural details during his schooling in the Futures Program on Brentaal. Domes, arches, columns and imposing cathedrals, all grandiose in nature. Imperial occupation had swiftly transformed the world into a weapon, marrying durasteel and stone saints of the past.

Maximilian watches Krennic with preternatural calm, gloved hands resting on his knees. The forest lives and breathes around them, life abundant and intoxicating. 

“Do you come around here often?” Krennic asks, breaking the lull. 

“Sometimes. But mostly I’m back and forth between Corellia and Carida. My garrison is on Corellia and I often lecture on Carida as a part time academic instructor. Mechanical engineering.” 

“Must be difficult to make time for family with a schedule like that.” Krennic casually leans an arm over the back of the bench. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m unattached at the moment.”

Krennic meets the Colonel’s gaze, his eyes rife with possibility. “Oh. How unfortunate.” 

“Is it?” Veers offers Krennic a smile that teeters precariously between the line of civility and danger. “So tell me this. Do you truly think that you know my machines better than I do?”

Krennic seizes upon the challenge, his own smile tainted with a hint of contempt. “Not only do I _know_ them better—I could design a better one as well. Better than the current model you’ve concocted. That’s a promise.”

Maximilian returns Krennic’s smile with lowered eyelids, the corner of his lips turning up just a little higher, the resting hands on his lap ever so slowly balling into fists. “Then by all means, Director. Show me.”

**Author's Note:**

> -Timeframe is around 10 BBY. Orson and Maximilian are close in age.  
> -The interaction between Davin Felth and Veers is Legends content.  
> -The details regarding Veers' wife are made up, as I'm not currently aware of any specific detailing in either Canon or Legends.  
> -This ultra rare pairing is called Death Walker, a joint concept between myself and Sneakybunyip.  
> -This is a three chapter affair, with the last taking place around the ESB era.  
> -The Denonian proverb is inspired by Rudyard Kipling.  
> -Krennic's title regarding the timeframe of 10 BBY may be a bit off from Canon.


End file.
